There is a box that arrived on my doorstep a few days ago. It sits on my table and waits for me. I stare at it. He said it wouldn’t come here this time. In the box are a few papers, some labels and test tubes. It’s evil really, like that ride at the fair where they hoist you up like 15 stories and then ask you to pull your own rip cord. But this box, you see, it haunts me. It could give me the thing I’ve been looking for for years… But I don’t want it. And having it here is too much to handle.
When I tested for HD there was a system, a process. There was a support person and a battery of treatments & research available. There was a group of people who knew exactly what it was and had been through it and were behind me 100%. This time I have a box. I find a lab. I surrender my blood, drop it off at FedEx, and wait 2-3 weeks for the results.
DAMN! Damn Damn Damn! (sigh) Was planning to go tomorrow but the website says it can only be shipped Monday through Thursday. Fuck. Come on, people. The box doesn’t say anything about that…
Listening to this
I should sleep, but I don’t want to… I don’t want to.
I want to dance and paint the sky with my hands. (zap) Maybe tomorrow.
© Michelle Routhieaux 2010